


Fall of the Elves: Gyorgy’s Lament

by Harbinger97



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Faeglow, Gyorgy Badi, Homebrew Content, Lovecraftian, Original Character(s), Poetry, Romani Elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:08:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harbinger97/pseuds/Harbinger97
Summary: This is a sort of poetic story about the rise and fall of the Elves in my setting, told from the perspective of an Elf paladin of Bahamut. Hopefully y'all enjoy it, as it was sort of writing exercise for me as a DM while I was plotting out my world's history.
Kudos: 1





	Fall of the Elves: Gyorgy’s Lament

**Author's Note:**

> The closest thing the continent has to an indigenous race, the High Elves and Wood Elves of Faeglow have occupied these lands so long that they have forgotten massive swathes of their own history. Though the oldest elders of the Elvish race can recall events before the Baron set foot on the soil of what is now The Bastion, the history of Elves begins somewhere centuries after a great catastrophe that befell them and turned the lush green hills of Hammonalia into a cursed and dying land. Many theories abound as to what caused this misfortune, but the elders caution against delving too deeply into their history and emphasize a focus on the present.  
> As of the Second Age, there are two very distinct cultures for the Elves: The Wood Elves of Verrundale and the Nomadic High Elves.  
> The Wood Elves are a rural and fairly homebodied race, often content to focus on the comings and goings within Verrundale, and to a lesser extent the Forest of Nox, rather than intervening in the politics and events of the wider world. Along with the Gnomes, the Wood Elves founded the Hunters of the Dale, an order of Rangers and Druids who protect travelers along the roads between Verrundale and The Forest of Nox and act as a force of law and order within their domain. Though their dalliances outside their ancestral borders are uncommon, everyone knows that the Elves of the Dale are extraordinary fighters and wise councilors in any endeavour.  
> The High Elves, by contrast, are known as meddlers of the highest order. At home anywhere but never truly calling any place home, the High Elves of Faeglow are wanderers, performers, grifters, soothsayers, magicians, bards, storytellers, and anything else that thrives in chaos and wanderlust. High Elves have been involved in nearly every major event to befall Faeglow, whether good or ill, and are seen as both wise and foolish in equal measure. There is no better companion in adventure or mischief than one of the Wandering Elves.
> 
> -From the Faeglow Player's Guide
> 
> We have come near to the end of our journey… The men are quiet, those that are left, and the party themselves are no longer talking. Our cleric isn't even praying, though I imagine finding that your God has long since died and that your powers can falter at any time would curb any holy man's enthusiasm. Thankfully Odin asks only that I die with age in hand and does not offer any false hope or fickle gifts. Simpler that way.  
> Gyorgy hasn't spoken since Batravia, or at least not in more than single words and grunts. To think that the bright young elf would be less verbose than Marcus…  
> Even the gnome is reserved.  
> I think we're to die here, but I won't say that to the others. They must at least think we have some chance of survival or else they might break or falter.  
> Odin preserve us.  
> …….  
> Gyorgy did say something… right before the entrance to the temple he recited a poem. I asked him for it last night and I'll attempt to translate. It will give me something to do while the loftier thinkers figure out the door.
> 
> -Baron Ylfring's last journal entry

Foreigners, wanderers, captives of sand  
Found new destiny in green, foreign land  
But clashed, severed, and departed  
Three tribes now, paths uncharted

Tall and fair, the Wood took one  
Those who went with him, outsiders now shun  
Fae things in whispers took those of elven brood  
Then turned it green and with ancient trees has it now stood

Those of scholarly mind and no heart for olden tales  
Chose the high and windy mountain trails  
There their ambition, invention and heart for stone  
Made beds with dragons and sought out new things alone

Finally, my own, I save for last  
Those whose judgement and doom are now long past

These Elves cared not for rock or tree  
But clung to gold and power with glee  
And in their towers, ivory and fair  
Took it upon themselves to seize the lion’s share

These creatures, who I must call my blood  
Brought upon this continent a fate worse than flood  
Or fire, or plague, or even deathly chill  
No, their doom still lays heavy upon us still

With powers fell and demons they prayed  
And with golden idol, their far off brothers betrayed  
King Ammon and others like him  
Bought hell on earth with boundless sin

On the first tribe, isolation and war was wrought  
But with stout heart, these horrors they fought  
With cunning and great deeds, the Hunt did centuries bide  
Until, at last, Men found the Dale and turned the tide

The second tribe, now at ease with all  
Stood with dragons and suffered disease and fall  
Their dead killed others, with rot or claw  
Until, underneath, caverns did yaw

There, among the mountains high  
Did the Drow fall prey to Orcus, He Who Cannot Die  
Their peaceful nature sundered and rent  
To eternal silence and dark dreams they went

These scholars took the worst of all  
And for my tribe, I can only feel gall

We High Elves, irony incarnate  
Tout magic and whimsy as our defining trait  
But the Elders know, those old fools I now hate  
What exactly is our lot, our fate

Here I end, for time draws near  
That I fight and die, to bring end to fear  
Hearken, you who find this here  
And for me have no pity, shed not a tear

I go to right a wrong now forgotten  
And fight a Lurker, who has turned all in its way decrepit and rotten  
The last of those Old Gods that my people did idolize  
I shall see dead, or banished, that is my eternal prize

Let those few who know the stories, new and old  
Pay heed to this, my last ode  
And give some small reverence to our final abode  
To we, six heroes brought now to five  
And the sixth, my brother, who I failed to keep alive

-Gyorgy Badi, Paladin of Bahamut


End file.
